Grand Theft Auto: Liberty City
by Samwise Vercetti
Summary: A small-time crook is betrayed, and left for the police. While he is transferred to a less crowded jail, Chris Graves's paddy wagon is hijacked, and he is set loose in Liberty City with nothing to lose, and the smell of sweet revenge in the air. UPDATED!
1. Transfer

Chapter 2  
  
Transfer  
  
2 months after being imprisoned, Chris was notified that the jail was crowding up, and he'd be sent to Liberty City Penitentiary, along with two other convicts. He was then told 8ball was coming with him. On June 2nd, they were ready to be taken to the new Penitentiary, however, something had been planned for them. The other convict was an elderly Asian man. He didn't talk much, nor did anyone in the paddy wagon that dismal, rainy night. When they turned onto Callahan bridge, a white hummer came up behind the wagon at great speed. Veering to the left, it sped quickly ahead then just as quickly veered in front of the wagon. The wagon halted immediately, and the brakes squealed. A white van stopped near the back of the wagon. Two heavily accented Hispanic men jumped out, and sped toward the wagon. They wore ten gallon hats, Hawaiian shirts and dark blue jeans, the both of them. They vehemently threw open the doors.  
  
"Senor dickhead!" the taller one said, indicating the old man. He leveled a gun at the guard. Next to him, his companion leveled a gun at the other guard. A loud shot rang out, and the driver slumped out of the front of the wagon. The two Hispanic men laughed.   
  
"It's no problem to kill you." one said to the rest of the occupants of the wagon.   
  
"Alright, get lost!" He said to 8ball, Chris and the guards when the Asian man jumped out.  
  
Chris leaped up and elbowed the guard across from him, near where the Asian had sat. 8ball kicked the other man out of the wagon, who promptly was knocked out. The Hispanics and the Asian hopped into the Hummer and drove off. 8ball had no cuffs on, his hands had been damaged useless in a prison riot a month ago. To the best of his ability, he undid Chris's cuffs from the keys he had found on the knocked out guard. They were about to hop in the van, when they heard a beeping sound....every second. They looked at each other and ran. They had only run twenty feet when a deafening roar came from behind them. The explosion sent the two men flying, who landed almost harmlessly on the pavement. When they looked up, they saw the paddy wagon and the van had been burnt to a crisp. When Chris stood up, before he helped up 8ball, he saw the whole bridge had been destroyed. It was the only connection between Portland and Staunton Islands. They were trapped on Portland, and the pigs would be all over the explosion.   
  
"I got a place on the east side of town. We'll have to run the distance, and we'll find a change of clothes. Hopefully the LCPD don't get to us before we get there." 8ball screamed over the roar of fire, as the police slowly descended right upon where they stood. 


	2. Default Chapter

Prologue  
  
  
  
Small-time. That's all he had ever wanted to be. As Chris dashed out of the bank he knew his hopes weren't true anymore. The cashier had pressed the alarm once his girl Catalina had gotten out of the back door; with the suitcase full of the police department's retirement funds. He smelled her sweet perfume when he passed a small camera. He leveled his shotgun to the camera, his breath becoming extremely hot under his mask. The shot rang out like rolling thunder in the alleyway. He then sprinted down the alleyway and turned left. As he rounded the corner, he saw two barrels pointed at him. Looking past, he saw Catalina's sadistic trademark snare.   
  
"Sorry, babe. I'm a busy girl, and you.... you're just small time." She fired, and she fired right at the heart. Chris dropped, his vision blurring, and finally descending into darkness.  
  
* * *  
  
When he came to a few minutes later, he saw the tail lights of the Banshee convertible he had bought her a few weeks fading. He could see that there were in fact, two people in the vehicle. Catalina, her hair flowing in the wind, enjoying her ride in the convertible. The other person in the car had shorter hair, but before Chris could see anything else, they fishtailed around the corner. Chris, using his shotgun nearly like a cane, picked himself up. Unzipping the front of his leather jacket, he examined his vest. Had it not been for his suspicions of Catalina, he would have been a dead man.   
  
Blinding lights blocked Chris's vision. Shielding his eyes, he heard, faintly, as if someone was screaming in his ear from a mile away, a voice calling.  
  
"Put your hands up! Lie flat on the ground! Throw the weapon away!" the voice said, and Chris complied. Using all his strength he chucked the shotty behind him, stuck his hands up, and fell to the ground. Even though he was not offering any resistance, the police still handled him roughly. Shoving him into the back of a paddy wagon. Wandering in the outskirts of consciousness, he was taken to the police station.  
  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Give Me Liberty  
  
Nora Chandler was ready for the biggest story she had done yet. She had to explain the successful bank robbery, that had gone off with few repercussions for the culprits. They had left one behind, and it was suspected that the person who shot him was his accomplice. The stranded culprit was identified as Chris Graves. Graves had been caught a few times, for minor robberies and a few other misdemeanors. Your average punk kid. Nora figured someone had hired him for this one; he couldn't have planned it with just him and his accomplices. She went over the information she had gathered, all condensed onto a note card:  
  
Suspect 1: Chris Graves  
  
31 years old  
  
5 former charges 2mr's, 3md's  
  
Orphan, homeless till age of five  
  
Senior year drop out  
  
Abusive father; Charles D. Stockhausen Died in car accident when suspect was 13  
  
Foster Father/ Mother died of natural causes when he was 19  
  
" Poor kid. Never had much of a chance in life. Maybe he's not just a punk kid." She said, her opinion changing as a tear came to her eye.  
  
***  
  
The mess hall was crowded, and did shafts of light penetrated the barred windows of the jailhouse. Sifting through a mass of convicts, Chris finally found a seat. Sitting next to him was a mustached, baldheaded, young black man.   
  
"Yo, my man! What you in for?" he said, rubbing the hairs of his mustache. Chris looked at him, a silent malevolence in his eyes.  
  
" Tried to knock off a bank. My girl.... that stupid bitch Catalina tried to get rid of me in the worst kind of way." he shook his head.  
  
"Alright, you bunch of inbred twinkle-toe pieces of shit, back to your cells!" Shouted one of the prison guards.  
  
When Chris got back to his cell, he sat down on his bed, then threw himself backwards, landing hard on the not so soft mattress.   
  
"So then, who's this Catalina ho?" The black man's voice drifted over. Leaning up, Chris saw, the man was in the cell across from him.   
  
"The hell's it to you?" Chris glared.  
  
" There's a lot else to do, ain't there?" he replied sarcastically.  
  
" What's your name?" Chris asked, less tense.  
  
" Dequan, but you can call me 8ball, brother. I'm in for pursuing the American dream. My biatch girl busted me on two counts of Grand Theft Auto. A lot of money for a little work it was. It was. Then she told the heat."  
  
"Really? Catalina... Catalina was rich growing up. She was orphaned, I think. Some rich Mexican family came and picked her up. When her father was taken from her in a deal gone wrong, her brother inherited the Cartel. She came up here to Liberty to make a name for herself and earn his respect. I guess that job was what she needed.... and not me." 


	3. Punk'd

Chapter 3  
  
Punk'd  
  
Chris heard the sirens howling out into the night, which was quickly becoming one hell of a bad one. 8ball and Chris leaped off a low portion of the bridge, falling about five feet before landing softly in a small grassy patch of land. Looking up, Chris saw Greasy Joe's Diner a stone's throw away. He remembered going there back in the eighties with the rest of his family. He wasn't used to thoughts of hospitality anymore. Forcing himself to look away, he turned to 8ball.   
  
"Okay, we're a lot closer than I thought. We gotta lotta turf to cover still, so lets make sure we know what the hell we doing. If I remember it right, we gotta go through some triad territory and then through the diablos' territory. Let's find ourselves a ride." 8ball examined the Diner's parking lot.  
  
"Right there, that Kuruma's unlocked. Let's jack it." The sirens grew louder and louder, and the growing din drowned out most of 8ball's attempts to talk, so 8ball simply motioned to the Kuruma.   
  
" Chris man, I'd drive but my hands are all messed up, so you got to." 8ball looked at his hands. They had been scarred in the landing after the bomb. He'd get it looked at later.  
  
" Where the hell are we headed anyway?" Chris asked, opening the car door and sitting down inside, getting accustomed to the leather interior.  
  
" Well first, let's get the hell outta this lot. Then turn right and head down the street till I tell you when to turn another right." 8ball sat down, trying to keep his hands from touching anything.   
  
Chris sped out onto the street, fishtailing right. He accelerated, and the car glided beautifully. It was a great ride, for a sedan at least. The engine screamed, and streetlights blurred by. Chris had hit 80 mph in a 25, weaving in and out of traffic and still maintaining his speed.   
  
"Holy shit! Right man, right!" 8ball screamed.   
  
Chris smiled as the car ripped right, into an alleyway, and it rolled slowly into an opening. Chris stopped the car and stepped out.  
  
"A'ight man, this is my part time crib. Lets head on in. I get the bed, you get the rollout." 8ball stepped out of the car just after Chris.  
  
Chris stepped opened the door which creaked as it opened. Looking inside, he saw a group of teens around a small T.V. set. They were all white, wearing baggy pants, stocking caps and Ludacris tees. 8ball laughed as he stepped.  
  
The kids turned and one stepped up to look at 8ball.   
  
"Aw hell no. Hell no!" 8ball said.  
  
"Man, what you doin' in our crib? Get the fuck out!" The kid said.  
  
"Your crib, this is your crib? Last I checked it was under my name, Biatch. What you gotta say about it now?" 8ball shot back.  
  
"Man, you wanna take this outside? I don't wanna mess up my house." The kid looked at the rest of his friends and laughed.   
  
"You're gonna take on a guy with hands as fucked up as mine? You almost as fucked as they are." 8ball said.  
  
"Then what about your boyfriend? He gonna take all....," the kid turned around and counted his friends," five of us on?"  
  
"Yeah, and if you win, you get to keep 8ball's crib and keep faking the funk." Chris said.  
  
"Alright then, it's on. No nines, no bats, just these," the kid said, raising his fists, " for the crib."  
  
* * *  
  
Chris stepped outside. There was about five feet between him and the five punks. Each one beside the leader's face drained of blood. They all advanced, except the tallest one, who Chris had guessed was their leader once he had ordered the others around. Chris leaped into the air and jump-kicked the first one to arrive, who in turn knocked down another. The third one drew a shotty on Chris. Chris kicked the gun out of the punk's hands whose hands were too fumbling to fire. The shotgun hit Chris's hand with force. Twirling around, he blew five seperate large, bloody holes throught the stomach of the punk, who was dead before he hit the pavement. Chris swiftly made dead the two on the ground. The last two dropped to the ground, threw forth the nines. While Chris, looked at them, the leader drew his own gun. A gunshot rang out. Chris looked up in time to see a body fall to the pavement. The leader's head was bleeding profusely. In the corner 8ball's smoking gun blended with the smoke of his recently lit cigarette. The two on the ground each got two bullets throught the head from Chris's unforgiving shotgun. 


	4. Start of something great?

Chap 4  
  
Start of something great?  
  
They packed the bodies into the Kuruma. One in the passenger seat, four scrunched in the roomy back. Chris used one of 8ball's doorags to cover his mouth from the horrid stench. A few hundred feet from 8ball's place was all they could go without looking suspicious. To Chris's luck, which he thought had run out, a steep drop-off plunged straight to the waters separating Staunton and Portland Islands. There are three islands that make up Liberty; Portland, Staunton and Shoreside Vale. Chris drove to the edge of the drop-off. He placed the car front tires over the edge and quickly jumped out. The four carcasses in the back balanced out the car. Chris headed to the trunk of the car, and vehemently kicked the back. The car plummeted to the stormy water, splashing violently. The sound nearly drowned out the ever-growing din of sirens to the south. Chris looked up the sky. A few raindrops landed on the tip of his nose. Looking south, he saw the fragmented bridge in it's full. The bridge had been cut roughly in half, with beams and wires protruding this way and that. He headed back to 8ball and his room. When he got in his hair was wet, and his hair, when wet went all the way down to his shoulders. 8ball was sitting on the rollout couch that going to be Chris's bed in fifteen minutes. 8ball was watching a porn film. The action was unfolding on the television. Chris smiled and sat down on the bed.   
  
"Y'know, if you do something nasty all over my bed, you'll wind up with the wiggers, man." Chris said, enjoying the entertainment as well.   
  
"Let's switch man, the African thunder is done for tonight." 8ball laughed. Chris winced at the thought of seeing 8ball doing that. Then he realized the obvious truth; it was 8ball's house and it beat the big house. He got up, and 8ball walked past him. 8ball flipped off the T.V, hopped on the bed and opened a drawer full of Sports Illustrated.  
  
"Hey I was watching that, man!" Chris grabbed for the remote. He flipped on the T.V but South Park was on.   
  
"Where is it?" Chris said, getting angrier.  
  
"Hey, man it was canceled when I turned off the set. Watch South Park man." 8ball sighed.  
  
"Shit!" Chris slammed the remote down, then silently watched South Park. After that he went to Leno, then at last, fell asleep.  
  
* * *  
  
Chris woke in the morning to the sound of a car started up.. 8ball stepped into the room, dressed in baggy pants, and a Bulls jersey.  
  
"Chris bro, I'm glad you up. Man, I know this guy who's connected. Name's Luigi. Let's go pay him a visit. He owns the nightclub around the corner." Chris got up, and threw on some clothes. He wore a leather jacket, since the weather was cold as hell in the mornings. He threw on some of 8ball's cargos, which 8ball wouldn't be wearing again. Heading outside, Chris saw 8ball had jacked a station wagon. That or it was his own, which Chris severely doubted.   
  
"Wait a minute, how'd you get this. What about your hands?" Chris said while entering the driver's side.   
  
"It was just waiting for me. Some chump parked it outside the Luigi's club and I drove it back. It's not that far." 8ball willingly entered the passenger side.  
  
Chris knew the way to the club, and ripped his way there the same way he did the night before. Parking out front, 8ball told Chris they would need to use the service door. Walking around back , they saw a tall, broad-shouldered Italian was waiting for them out side the door. 8ball turned to Chris.  
  
"Hey man, that's Jimmy Mottisanti. He's not too bright, but he gets things done. He's gonna let me in, but Luigi wants to have a word with you." 8ball started for the door.  
  
"How do you know?" Chris asked.  
  
" I called Luigi and told him about our deal. He's got some work for you. I told you he's connected, he should get you some rep on the street." 8ball answered under his breath. He walked up the stairs and turned to Jimmy,  
  
"Hey, Jimmy, how's it hangin' brother? Alright man, can I head on in?" 8ball said, shaking Jimmy's hand. Jimmy simply nodded. Jimmy opened the door 8ball proceeded in. Chris attempted to follow suit, but Jimmy's hand came up, stopping him. The door opened from the inside. Chris was confronted by an Italian man, about a half foot shorter than him and smoking a Cuban cigar. He took the cigar out of his mouth, and distantly, from within the club, Chris heard:  
  
"Say hello to 8ball, ladies!"  
  
Luigi smiled.   
  
"So, you wanna be our new errand boy round 'here, Chris? Alright, I can deal. I need you to go pick up one of my girls from the clinic. Don't screw this up and there'll be some work for you. You look like a big guy, so you might see some action soon. " Luigi's voice was heavily accented and nasal, and when it first came out, Chris felt like using the shotgun on him, stowed peacefully away in the backseat of the wagon. Chris simply smiled, then nodded as Luigi, followed by Jimmy entered the club, which at 9:00 had a pulsing beat coming from the inside. Chris made his way to the wagon, got in pumped the shotgun, and drove off. The clinic wasn't far. The car rolled to a stop. He looked around. The only person there had to be Misty. She wore short shorts and a bikini top. Her hair dye had faded so much that her hair was a mix of her natural blonde and the red hair she wanted. She threw on a green jacket, and walked to the car.  
  
"Damn, you sure are good looking for one of Luigi's driver boys. Are you interested?" Misty said, bending over to the driver side window.  
  
" Not now, sweets. I'm just here to take you to the club." Chris motioned for Misty to get in the car. She slowly walked over to the other side.  
  
" So, your Luigi's new errand boy?" she asked. All he did was smile.  
  
He drove fast, at least as fast he could in a station wagon. He ripped right and came to a quick stop in front of Luigi's club.   
  
"See ya round, sugar." Misty stepped out of the car. Chris watched as she walked away. He then accelerated around the corner.  
  
* * *  
  
The station wagon sped up, and Chris didn't even know exactly where he was going. Finally, he decided to ditch the wheels, which could barely break 45, if he's lucky and the engine doesn't explode at 35. He stopped in a nightclub parking lot in the Red Light District. He grabbed the red '85 stallion, hotwired it and rode it smoothly back to the hideout. He liked this ride, and was gonna keep it as long as he could. 


	5. Devil Pimp

Chapter 5   
  
Devil Pimp  
  
The summer air was hot and muggy when Chris headed back to Luigi's. The ride in the Stallion was great, but it brought back unwanted memories of the 80's. Tape deck, stick shift, bad handling, worse coloring 19-fucking-80's car. But at least it was smoother and a hell of a lot faster than the P.O.S 8ball jacked. The radio was working, and tuned to the only all-80's station in Liberty. Chris tried to change the station, but the knob fell off. Sighing he leaned back to enjoy the ride. The radio leaked in;  
  
  
  
"You're motoring, what's your price for flight? you've got him in your sight.... and got him through the night." Chris couldn't remember the name of the song. Sister.... Sister something. Chris pulled up next to the club as a somber solo started. Walking up, he saw Luigi had been waiting for him.   
  
"Some Diablo asshole is pimping his scuzzy bitches in my backyard. Head to the docks and get rid of him, take his car and drive to the garage on Lane Avenue. My boys will take over from there." Luigi waved Chris off and headed back to the club. Chris headed back out to the street. Looking around, he realized what a dump it was. Hookers walked the streets in broad daylight, steam coming up from the sewers, papers and the homeless strewn about. Chris headed into the Stallion. He ripped off, and simply turned the volume down. He sped around corners, and liked how well the old car was handling it, which was uncharacteristic. He sped down to the harbor, and screeched his tires. He hopped out, and had the shotty in his hands when the pimp noticed him.  
  
"Hey buddy, looking for a good time? Go talk to Candy over there." The pimp said, with a heavy Hispanic accent.  
  
"Actually, I am looking for a good time. Just me, you and this shotty." Chris pulled the shotgun out of the passenger side. The pimp cocked an eyebrow at the first two participants in this "good time" then smiled at the last.  
  
" He's got a gun! Girls, let ol' Ricardo take care of this." the pimp grabbed an Uzi. He smiled as he fired. Chris jumped under the open car door. The pimp opened fire again after reloading, the bullet holes were drawing ever closer to Chris. Chris would have to move, and then shoot as fast as he could. Otherwise, he would be riddled with bullets. Chris leaped. Jumping into the air, Chris let off a shot. Two bullets caught the pimp in the side. He dropped to the ground. The pimp clutched his side, then fired five shots into the Stallion's tire.   
  
Chris hopped in the driver side, wheeled the car around and smacked the pimp on the forehead with the bumper. The bumper, bloodied and bullet-ridden, finally gave out. Chris stepped out.   
  
"I liked that car." Chris said to the disembodied head on the ground, which stared vacantly into the dusk sky. Chris, unmoved, headed to the other car, which also happened to be a Stallion, but more recent, probably a '95 or '96. He backed up, then peeled out of the harbor. He made his way to Lane Avenue. Outside of the garage, two slick, black haired men held up a hand so Chris could stop. Chris stepped out and tossed the keys to one of them. They both stepped in the car, and drove off. Chris shrugged, and stepped out onto the avenue. Was all of Portland the Red Light District, like near Luigi's club? He walked home this time, and decided to wait for a nice car. He didn't wait long till a Red Kuruma drove by, with a middle aged man inside. Chris stepped in front of it's path. He ran to driver's side window, ripped the man out, and while the man was still lying vulnerable, Chris delivered a vicious kick to his head. He threw the body where he had thrown the punk's body. The man drowned to death, as the kick had not killed, only knocked him unconscious. Chris hopped in the Kuruma and drove it into the hideout alleyway. 


	6. Some Action

Chapter 6  
  
Some Action  
  
When Chris drove back, Luigi was inside the club. Chris was let in by Jimmy. The nightclub wasn't just a nightclub, it was a full on strip bar. Chris was distracted for a half of an hour by the very beautiful, mostly Italian girls. Chris then headed to the V.I.P, where he was certain Luigi was at.  
  
"What's, your name kid?" a broad-shouldered bouncer asked before granting him permission to enter the V.I.P Luigi was in.  
  
"Graves. Chris Graves." Chris shifted his stance. The broad-shouldered man stepped aside. Entering, he saw Luigi reclining, with a fat Italian man on a beautiful leather sofa opposite him. Luigi was surrounded by three girls. No sign of Misti.  
  
"Go away girls, me and the boys are gonna talk business."  
  
"What's going on kid? Kid, I'd like you to meet Tony Cipriani, Salvatore Leone's capo." Luigi motioned to the fat man, bent over a TV guide.   
  
"Nice to meet you kid." Tony threw aside the booklet, and threw out his hand. "Actually..." Tony withdrew the hand, wiped it on his pants, and stuck out the other. Chris shook it hesitantly.  
  
"Alright, Chris. Today's your big day. Salvatore has called for all or most of the Leone Family's men for a good old fashioned operation against the Triads. You're gonna be gunning for one of the five dispatched cars. Salvatore has called most of his gunmen and drivers together, and we're gonna meet at the Leone Mansion in about an hour. Four to a car, one driver, three gunners, and snipers on Fourth and Main. We're gonna take out a convoy of vans carrying all the Triad Fish Factory's profits in the past months. When that's done, we've got a war on our hands, and we'll eliminate all Triad threats. After this, it'll be written in stone; you're working for the Leone Family, and you'll be working to their best interests. Head on over to the Mansion. You're car will be waiting for you." With that, Luigi waved Chris off, and the girls came back.   
  
* * *  
  
Chris left the club in a hurry. He got in the car, his bloodlust raging out of control. Keep it cool, he told himself, but he couldn't stop smiling. Chris got a rush out of a killing now, and it brought him to a stage of euphoria he had only experienced before when was "with" Catalina. He knew the way to the Mansion, seeing as it was in the best looking house in Portland. When he got to the Mansion, there were tons of cars parked outside, Cheetahs, Infernuses, Sentinels and basically any sports car or luxury car he could think of. A man in one of the foremost Sentinels waved him to come towards him.  
  
"You Chris?" the man asked, another Italian. Chris simply nodded. "Alright then, here's the plan. We park in an alley, and when we hear the sniper shots fired, we get the hell out of there and wipe out the triad threat. First, we, our car alone, destroy all other vehicles in the convoy other than the bank trucks. Then the rest of the dispatched cars will take out anything coming for us. Then we've gotta grab the cash, and make it back to the Mansion in time. Hop in, we got ten minutes to get to Chinatown." The man rolled up his window. Chris opened the sleek black door and dropped his head into a fresh-smelling, beautiful leather interior. Looking around, he saw two men, similar to ones outside Luigi's garage. Maybe even the same two. Chris looked down at his seat. There sat an AK47, calling to him. Chris picked it up, sat in and mounted it on the car door, after he rolled down the window.   
  
* * *  
  
The Mafia had paid off the police, so that they would not be disturbed during the whole process of the raid, even with 3 guns hanging out of five cars, and a clean 9 million dollars in tow. The car rolled slowly into an alleyway on Main street. It parked, and silently waited for any gunfire.  
  
"So, how many times have y'all been in one of these gang war deals?" Chris asked, regarding the whole car. The driver simply pulled the cuffs on his leather gloves.  
  
"Alright. This is something our whole car does for good luck. Before every fight, we put on sunglasses. It's a practice that's been done for years, and every new member has gotta do it." he said, pulling out four pairs of sunglasses, which hung in the compartment between Chris and the driver.   
  
"What about night jobs?" said Chris as he slid on the sunglasses.   
  
"If you can't fire with Sunglasses at Night, you don't deserve to be a member of this car. Look, kid, I don't need you bein' a wiseass, okay? Also, at night, if you have to fire then wait till some kind of light comes into your point of view, like shop lights, or streetlights or even headlights. Night isn't that hard to operate in." Benito wiped away the sweat that was already gathering on his forehead  
  
"You know how to handle that thing, kid?" the driver asked.  
  
"Hey man, what's your name, anyway?" Chris asked, ignoring the last question.  
  
"I'm Benito, this is Mickey and that's Donny. Hey let's keep it down, cause y'know, sniper bullets ain't that loud." Chris closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds around him. He heard a large truck roll by, probably a pickup. He opened his eyes. It was, a pickup with two Asians in the back, guns ready, but not aiming. Then, Chris saw two security trucks pass by, then, lastly another pickup with three Asians in it. BANG! A gunshot pierced the muggy air, and the engine roared to life in the sedan. It peeled out of the alley. Chris had shots all three truck passengers. He fired, and bullet holes ripped through the Asians' bodies. Two fell over, and met a gruesome fate under the tires of the sedan. The last one fell under the truck's tires. The truck driver, noticing that all three of his gunmen were dead, sped out of there. The Sentinel sedan accelerated past an immobile security truck. Chris saw blood on the driver side window. The two men riding in the back of the truck opened fire on the Sentinel. Bullet holes riddled the hood, and they crept ever closer to the windshield.  
  
"TAKE THEM OUT!" screamed Benito. Chris fired ferociously at the truck, taking two tires out, and killing the two Asians with the same bullet. The bullet ripped through their skulls, splattering the window to the driver with blood. The security bank truck stopped, and the driver (the one still alive) got out and raised his hands. He was also Asian. Donny ended him with two quick bullets to the head. The four other sentinels roared out of their places, and formed a barrier in the street, ready for a Triad onslaught. Benito wheeled the car around to the back of the first truck. All four got out and started piling all the cash bags they could into the trunk. Mickey, Donny and Chris ran to the second, while Benito parked the car behind it. They unloaded the second van in less than a minute. They all hopped into the car. Once Chris, the last one to shut his door, shut it, they heard a loud crash. A triad fish van had ripped through two barrier Sentinels and was coming right for them. The car's wheels burnt out as they peeled away, the souped-up engine screaming. The car ripped it's way through the streets of Liberty, the van hot on their tail every inch of the way. Chris positioned himself, half-in, half-out of the car, and opened fire on the van, concentrating on the wheels. However, the bullet spray diameter was against him. The first bullet that struck the wheel, however, sent the truck into a whirling mass of metal and glass along Broad St. on the way back to the Leone Mansion. Chris slithered back into his seat, sweating, but ready for more. There was no more however; they were pulling up the Mansion's driveway.   
  
"Alright, Kid. I'll take over from here. Good shooting, though. Mr. Leone himself said you should drop by tomorrow, he has some work for you." Benito got out the car, wiping sweat from his forehead. Chris nodded, and headed back to his Kuruma. The ride home was smooth, and Chris smiled as he saw the police gather around the heist scene. 


	7. Deeper and Deeper

Chapter 7  
  
Deeper and deeper  
  
The heist scene had been taken care of by morning. Chris raced through the streets of Liberty, pulling eagerly into the Leone Mansion. He couldn't wait to meet Salvatore in person. This was one of the few men Chris had respected in life. His father had worked small jobs for Salvatore back in the 60's, before transferring to the Forelli Mafia in the 70's. In 1971 his father was busted for drug dealing, and since it was on a small scale, he only got fifteen years. He never heard from his father, and when he was born in May of 72' , his illegitimate father still had 14 years to serve in prison. Chris couldn't remember his mother. She died when he was young. Then, that dickhead Charlie Stockhausen adopted him. Charlie's wife was an alcoholic, and she was driving when they were killed. He was glad when they died, but he was still young. Only thirteen. In the mid 80's Chris's father was released. His father never even gave thought to caring for him, and quickly went to some far off place, Chris never knew where. Then, he was taken care of by an elderly couple he had no intention of harming, and finally came to love them. They both died when he was 19. Chris didn't cry much, but this was pushing him. No, he couldn't succumb to emotion. That's what got him into the deep shit with Catalina. He was in too far now, couldn't give up. All these thoughts rushed through his head while he walked up to the front door. He used one of the large, Romanesque knockers. A thin, pale wiry man opened the door.  
  
"May, I help you sir?" the man asked in an elderly British accent.  
  
"Name's Chris.... uh, I'm here to see Salvatore?" Chris stepped in when the man motioned for it. Right inside, sat a portly elderly man. It was him. Chris hadn't seen him before, except in the paper.  
  
"Hey, tiger. I hear you're doing a lot of respectable work. Anyway, me and the boys are gonna talk business, so if you'll take care of my woman for the evening. Maria! Move your butt!" Salvatore made huge, angry gestures in the air, obviously telling the woman to move faster. A young, beautiful Italian woman sauntered seductively out. She was younger than Chris, maybe 25 or 26.   
  
"There she is... the one and only queen of Sheba. Whatever she's doing, I'm sure it cost me money." Salvatore reclined.  
  
Her accent was thick, and certainly Italian, but whiny and annoying.   
  
"Well, you don't think I hang around for the conversation, do you?" Maria said, laughing at herself. Chink in the armor number one; her voice.  
  
"Shut up, get in the limo."  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you want I'm sure you're new driver has everything covered. And isn't he all big and handsome? C'mon Fido, let's go meet Enrique down near Luigi's club."  
  
"Watch her, Chris, she can be real trouble." Salvatore said, entering his parlor. Maria headed outside, and quickly proceeded to the limo. Chris followed, and was happy she couldn't turn around to say "I'm up here." and notice he wasn't staring. Chris didn't notice how she was dressed until she got in the car. It wasn't elegant like he though. She wore tight, hip hugging jeans, and red leather jacket with a bikini top under it. She lowered into the Limo. Chris headed to the driver side.   
  
" So, you certainly aren't dressed elegantly." Chris said as he entered and turned on the Limo.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm dressed to party, buddy. I don't need to dress like a damn Mafia Princess everyday, y'know?" Maria applied her make-up and lipstick.  
  
" You look like one of Luigi's girls." Chris said as they pulled out of the driveway. All of a sudden, a sharp pain sprawled throughout the back of his neck. The Limo swerved, nearly smacking into a signpost for a sign that blatantly displayed 'Marco's Bistro'.  
  
"Jesus, woman! You nearly got yourself killed! One inch to the left, and that would have been Hello, Signpost!" Chris screamed, grasping for his gun.  
  
"What the fuck did you think was gonna happen, prick? You don't like the way I'm dressed, then fuck you, you don't have to look." Maria shouted, then looked outside, at the passing buildings. Chris looked down on the passenger seat next to him. It was her makeup kit, not all of it, but it was large enough.   
  
"Alright, I'm sorry. I like the way you dress. You look.... nice. I was trying to humor you, y'know? Maybe I shouldn't." Chris knew that in truth, she did look nice. She looked great. She looked awesome. She looked like a hooker. Chris smiled as these thoughts rolled through his head, and then, they were at the club. Maria got out. She walked over to a Hispanic man, who talked as fast as he twitched. She handed over a wad of 10s, then sat back in the Limo. Chris rolled his eyes.  
  
"Okay, Fido, there is a party over at Atlantic Quays, in one of the warehouses.... okay let's go, Pronto!" She said. This startled Chris, who was distracted by the shady Hispanic. Chris made his way to the Quays. He could here the music inside pumping as Maria got ready to get out.  
  
"Alright, you wait out here while I go in and shake my butt, alright?" Maria stepped out, took off her jacket, threw it in the car, and brazenly strode up to the door men. They just watched her go inside, didn't even ask for an invitation. Chris thought she looked great, but knew she was taken. Not happily taken, but taken.   
  
Chris had waited a good 15 minutes, with same damn megamix playing in the party. Chris just watched the world go by, cars passing, boats harboring, drug dealing, robbing. Ah, Liberty City is great, ain't it? he thought. Wait a second.... he heard distant police sirens, they were getting closer too. He saw two paddy wagons round the corner. Their parking outside was ungainly, but efficient. The wagons emptied. A siren sounded in the warehouse. Maria was the first out, followed by a swarm of partygoers. It's time to party, Chris thought.  
  
* * *  
  
Maria jumped in the car.  
  
"C'mon Fido, let's go! Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go, RIGHT NOW!" Maria screamed.  
  
Chris put the pedal to the medal, and roared off into the street. Two cruisers were after them. Great, I'm in a Limo running from the police. I'm not totally screwed or anything, Chris rolled his eyes. Chris weaved through the streets, as best as he could. He couldn't shake them. He slammed his hand into the seat next to him.  
  
" Damn it!"   
  
When Chris slammed the seat, a small, mechanical compartment came out of the space between the passenger and driver seats. Chris opened it, keeping his eye on the road, shocked as he was. Inside, were five, lean, mean, green hand grenades. He looked up for a sunroof. Shit! It was over Maria's head.  
  
"Uh, Maria!" Chris screamed. Maria was panicking, but she was holding it in.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You see these?" Chris tossed back all five grenades . Maria screamed.  
  
"Calm down, please! Calm down!" Chris screamed. Maria was still frightened, but she stopped screaming.  
  
"Maria, baby. I need you to toss these grenades at the two cruisers. You ever seen a war movie?" Chris didn't wait for a response. "Pull the little pin out, there's five seconds till it blows. Toss it, and pray to God that it works."  
  
"I can't, Chris, I can't!" Maria started to let he panic take over again.  
  
"Maria, please, it's the only way! Do you want to die, or go to prison for the drugs you still got in your pockets?" Chris yelled, taking his eyes off the road and staring right at her. He knew the streets so well, he wasn't in much trouble, except from traffic. Maria picked up one of the grenades, and set the other four to her side.  
  
"No, I don't want to die or get busted!" Maria tossed the grenade out of the sunroof, it clanked along the back of the limo, and then rolled onto the hood of the police, and once it hit the lights it blew. The explosion rocked Harwood, which Chris had made his way quickly to. The exploded police car landed on the other after it took air for a few seconds.  
  
"Yes! Oh baby, that was perfect!" Chris smiled as they pulled into the driveway.  
  
" Alright, now do you still wanna act like a prick around me?" She smiled as she and Chris got out in garage at the Mansion.  
  
" Nah, I guess not. Take care Maria." Chris headed back to the Kuruma.  
  
"Hey Chris, after that... little incident earlier, you treated me real good, with respect and everything. Thanks for the ride."  
  
Chris turned around, and watched Maria head in.  
  
"Hey Maria, don't let Salvatore see you dressed like that." Chris whispered just loud enough so only Maria could hear.  
  
"Good point! Shit! My jacket's still in the Limo! Thanks for the heads up! Bye!" Maria waved, and winked at Chris.   
  
Chris hopped in the Kuruma, and drove his way home. When he got there, he noted to himself. Maria's married to Salvatore. You get into any funny business with Maria and you're fucked as far as the Mafia goes. It doesn't matter. When Chris is the most powerful man in Liberty he'll take care of the Mafia. 


	8. Rat

Chapter 8  
  
Rat  
  
Chris drove once again, eagerly to Salvatore's Mansion. He stepped up to the front door, and knocked lightly. He was surprised to see who opened the door. It was Maria. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail, and she was wearing a sports bra and low-rise workout shorts. Chris couldn't believe she answered the door dressed like this. Does she ever wear the mafia princess stuff? a dress, with hair done up,a necklace and jewelry everywhere. Chris guessed she was just different.  
  
"Hey, snap out of it! Do you wanna see Salvatore?" Maria snapped her fingers under Chris's nose. He had drifted off. Chris almost blushed.   
  
"Uh, yeah is he around?" Chris asked.  
  
"He's around back, talking with Tony Cipriani." Maria motioned to the back yard. Chris walked forward, and headed back out into the beautiful terrace, overlooking Liberty Beach.   
  
" Tony, you and Chris have met, haven't you?" Sal motioned between the two.   
  
"Yeah, yeah, how ya doin' kid?" Tony said, wiping his nose.  
  
"Never been better."  
  
"Well, Chris. You've earned my respect. I heard nothing but good news from Maria about you. Now, sonny, a new Colombian Cartel Operative is pushing SPANK, the new high on the street. They're interfering with our, ahem, operations. They seem to know everything we're doing before we do it. We got us a rat. Now, one my men is working the bar at Luigi's club. He's paying a lot more than he's making. He ain't pimpin', he ain't pushin', he must be talkin'. Follow Ronnie Valenti from Luigi's Club. See where he goes. If he squeals, get rid of him and report back here tomorrow as to where he led you. Good luck kid."  
  
Chris left quickly. He was down to Luigi's, a half mile away, in about a minute. He pulled up outside, right behind a cab. A small, greasy looking man walked cautiosly out of the front door. His nametag read in a neon pink coloring: Ronnie. Chris tightened the grip on his wheel. Chris followed Ronnie in the cab for almost twenty minutes. The cab was heading to the harbor. Chris parked his car near a delivery loading dock. He got out as Ronnie did, and as the cab drove away, Ronnie walked to a harbor near a huge cargo ship. Two people were waiting for him. A tall...dark...ugly Hispanic man and..... Catalina. There she was. She's the Cartel Operative! That or the ugly guy, but he didn't look to bright. Chris heard every word they said.  
  
"Here comes our little friend." the Hispanic man said.  
  
"Were you followed? What goes on here is our secret, you know that, right?" Catalina brushed aside her bangs.  
  
"No, I don't think so. I know it's our secret though. Where is it?" Ronnie asked.  
  
"Here's five hundred, in 10's. Now talk." said Catalina, laying down a briefcase.  
  
"Alright, the Leones are fighting two wars. The Triads and the Forellis. Joey Leone stirred up some bad blood with the Forellis. The Forellis are weak though. The main threat is the Triads. They have an operation against the Asians every week or so. Neither side is showing any signs of giving up. Everyday they're losing men and influence in the city. Salvatore is getting dangerous and paranoid. He suspects everybody. Also, some of the guys at the club are saying some young hotshot named Chris is doin' Salvatore's girl Maria. Salvatore hasn't gotten wind of it yet, but when he does, it's bad for the both of them."   
  
Chris saw no change on Catalina's face at the mention of his name. He withdrew his head from looking and tried to conceal himself better. But what the hell, Chris hadn't touched Maria! If Salvatore finds out I'm a dead man, Chris panicked. Chris peered around the wall to see Catalina and ugly-all-day hop into an SUV and drive off. Chris, brimming with rage, jumped into his Kuruma. He wheeled it around the corner. Ronnie swerved around. A look of pure horror was in his eyes, as his vision filled with headlights. At least it'll be quick he thought. The car hit with such force the Ronnie's body was broken in half, and only ligaments held the rest of it together. Chris came to a sudden stop, and the body went flying. It was split in half as it rolled along. Chris got out, and kicked it into the ocean. 


	9. Bomb da base

Author's Note: I understand I'm changing things around a lot, but that's purely so I'm not copying the game word for word, which would bore the hell out of everyone. Also, it allows me a greater range of creativity that I can put into the story. For those who speak of action lacking in the story, you need to understand that this story is part drama as well. No offense intended, but not every chapter will overload you on action. Most will though. :) Thanks for the reviews, I hope this'll satisfy.  
  
Chap 9  
  
Bomb da base  
  
Chris headed back to his hideout, and had a night of uneasy sleep. Chris was out the door at 10 in the morning, ready to get his hands on a new job. He was also rather hesitant. Chris walked up to the Leone Mansion in a state between anticipation and fear. The butler answered the door.  
  
"You know who I'm looking for." Chris said, shifting his weight to one leg.  
  
"He's out back, enjoying the beach." The butler motioned to the terrace, once again. Chris jogged out into the beautiful morning and a great view on the terrace. Salvatore had one of those stupid umbrella-hats on. Salvatore was looking at the harbor, reclining in a lawn chair.   
  
"Hey, Chris, good to see you kid. So, what of the rat? Did he squeal?" Salvatore asked, curious as he was.  
  
"Yes. He led me to that huge boat down at the docks. He's told them basically everything. I took care of him. I think the Cartel are pushing out of that boat."  
  
"That's interesting, because my men have confirmed that last night, when they saw huge boxfuls of SPANK getting moved around. "  
  
" So, what do you want me to do?" Chris looked out to the beach.  
  
"Son, the reason I'm out here isn't to get a tan, and you know that. I don't need no suntan. I'm here to enjoy the show. The show you and 8ball are gonna be putting on for me. You're gonna torch that boat, make sure it's done for. 8ball's got the stuff you need. I'm funding the whole thing so I expect it to be good , and I expect to see fireworks....," Salvatore paused to check his watch... "in a half-hour to an hour. You do this for me, you're a made man, anything you want."   
  
* * *  
  
With that, Chris left. Chris headed out to the Kuruma, and proceeded over to 8ball's shop on the west side. He had heard it in passing reference when he was at Luigi's club. He hadn't seen 8ball since he went inside Luigi's club, what seemed like a while ago. Chris figured he lived and worked at the shop. Chris knew it was near a car dealership, and when he got there he knew the route to 8ball's place just by common sense. Chris stepped out of the Kuruma. He saw that 8ball had his own ride. It was a sleek red Banshee. Looks like 8ball was doing good for himself. Chris opened the door to the shop. He rung the alarm bell.  
  
"Yo, my man! Chris! How's it going?" 8ball was in a sleeveless shirt, with jeans and a red bandana.  
  
"Hey, Salvatore sent me. You got the bomb?" Chris asked, surveying the shop.  
  
"Yeah, but I still can't use a piece with these hands. I'm gonna need you to look out for me while I get aboard the ship. Here, this should help you pop some heads." 8ball gave Chris a sniper rifle. "We'll take my ride."  
  
* * *  
  
Chris hopped in the Bansee, while 8ball simply opened the door. They drove with all haste to the harbor. 8ball held on tight to the little black box the bomb came in. When they reached the harbor, they saw the huge boat looming in front of them. Out front were two men guarding the ramp up to the boat, with two SUVS to the both of them. Were they expect this? Chris worried.  
  
"Okay, here we are. I'm gonna take some cover behind those boxes. I'll head in you when you fire the first shot. Get a good vantage point, man." 8ball stepped out, and hid behind three large boxes. Chris pulled turned around rode around the side of the building next to the ship. He saw a group of stainless-steel steps. He got out, walked up, to the top of the building. Perfect. Chris stood on top of the building, examining the ship, memorizing the placement of the Cartel gunmen. Two on the bridge, one at the top near some barrels, two near the boxes 10 maybe 15 feet to the right, one on top of the boxes. And three in front of the entrance to the front of the ship. Chris leveled the sniper rifle, pointed at the first guard near the bridge. BANG! Right through the skull. His friend rushed over to see what was wrong. Big mistake, BANG! Chris's silencer had fallen off, and the full blast was heard. Chris had to reload. This panicked the men on the ship. 8ball charged at the ramp. Chris leveled his rifle, ready for it to rain blood .  
  
* * *  
  
8ball heard two shots, and right then he bolted from his hiding spot. He charged wildly at the ramp, black box in hand. Another shot ripped through the skull of the man at the top of the ship, whose brains splattered on the barrels behind him. 8ball surveyed the top of the ship. Shit! That's not friendly fire! Gunshots rang out, and 8ball ducked for cover. The bullets pierced the box around him, though they never connected. Take them out, white boy! 8ball looked at Chris. Bang, Bang, Bang! 8ball heard the bodies slump to the floor. He jumped up, and saw that there were four gunmen left. He had to run. Chris fired once more taking out the man on top of the box. 8ball ran at the entrance. The gunmen opened fire. Two bullets ripped through 8ball's torso. He didn't feel it; he was too determined. BANG! Chris took out two of them with one shot, and the bullet ripped through the hull next to the last man. He turned to see why his friends had dropped, the black man wasn't armed. He then raised his gun firing at 8ball, but it was too late. 8ball kicked the gun into the air, then roundhoused the poor sap to the ground. He stepped ferociously on the man's neck. Satisfied with himself, 8ball gave Chris a thumbs up. He still didn't feel the bullet wounds. Chris waved back. 8ball ran into the front of the ship, a complex network of buttons and switches. 8ball simply set the bomb down. He armed it.   
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A heavily accented Mexican asked as he put the gun to 8balls head. 8ball turned around, praying silently.  
  
"Listen, this is an easy solution. You shoot me and die in this explosion, or we both get off the ship alive. What do you prefer?" 8ball's sweat was pouring. The Mexican looked past 8ball, and his face turned into a twisted expression of fear.  
  
" Let's get the fuck out of here!" the Hispanic man said. 8ball and him headed out the exit. As they headed down the ramp, side by side, they heard the deafening explosion. 8ball turned to the Mexican, and violently pushed him over the edge of the ramp! 8ball got off the ramp just as it collapsed. He hid behind one of the SUVs from the debris. He saw the ship's back end go about fifty feet in the air, and it finally submerged a moment later. The pain of the bullets hit 8ball for the first time.  
  
* * *  
Chris headed down the stairs as quick as possible, hopped into the Banshee, and drove quickly to 8ball. He got out.  
  
Chris stooped down next to 8ball. "Holy shit! Man, you're hit! How do you feel?"   
  
"LIKE I BEEN SHOT!" 8ball screamed. "Get to the hospital, dog!" Chris helped 8ball into the Banshee. 8ball was screaming as he covered both of the wounds. Chris fishtailed onto the hospital's road. He helped 8ball out, then proceeded to the front desk , 8balls arms around his neck. He practically drug 8ball up to it.   
  
"Miss, we need help bad."   
  
"Chris....." 8ball said, his voice becoming raspy. "Head back to our place. I'll be fine. Go see Salvatore, he'll be proud." Chris handed 8ball over to two men ready to put him on a stretcher, and left. He headed back to hideout. He was happy 8ball wasn't doing too bad. Ah, a made man in the Leone Family. Life is good. Just as long as Salvatore doesn't hear that goddamn rumor. 


	10. Badfellas

Chapter Ten  
  
Badfellas  
  
Chris was a little hesitant to ride to Salvatore's this time. He drove slowly, obeying every traffic law he could remember (which is odd, but it was the best way to slow himself down.). The banshee slowly came to a halt in Salvatore's lot outside his mansion. Chris knocked on the door, and was relieved when he saw Salvatore's butler instead of Maria opening the door. He had a feeling Maria had done something wrong, and he wasn't sure what. Salvatore was just behind the butler, and greeted Chris with a hug.   
  
"Good job, sonny! You kicked the shit out of those greaseballs!" Salvatore said, coming out of the hug . "Sit down, kiddo."  
  
"I got one more job for you before we can all sit down and party. Y'see, my boys down at Luigi's club caught us an informant, had a bit of a rumble, and it got a little messy in the car. Thought he was a good guy, but not too much brains. The car explains that. So, anyway I want you to take the car, and get it cleaned. Come back here to my party with the car in mint condition. It's in the alley next to Luigi's club."  
  
Chris left quickly. This is pretty easy, but whatever it takes to keep his made man position was worth it. Chris drove down to Luigi's club, and saw the car. It was a sleek red Cheetah. Chris smiled, got out of the car, and the first thing he noticed was that the car had already been cleaned. Wrinkling his forehead, Chris looked into the side window. In the passenger side lay a small black box. From the box came a beeping noise...... Chris ran to the Banshee again. He wasn't sure what to think. Salvatore wanted him dead. A blue Sentinel pulled up next to his parked Banshee. He entered the Banshee, and looking to the left he saw Maria was the driver of the Sentinel. Chris rolled down his window. And Maria rolled down her own.  
  
"You're car is traced Chris, get in! Salvatore's men are looking for us!" Maria screamed. Chris's face drained of blood. He jumped in the car. Looking in the side mirror, he saw two Mafia Sentinels approaching behind them. They saw him, and accelerated.   
  
"Maria, you better start driving!" Chris grabbed his shotgun from the Banshee as they took off. Maria accelerated as Chris positioned his body half in and half out. He opened fire on the Sentinels. Five bullets punctured the hood and sent the car flaming in to the nightclub.  
  
"Where the hell are we headed anyway?" Chris asked after seeing this.  
  
"Staunton Island. You ever fired one of those from a car, baby?" Maria fishtailed on to a street. They were making for an abandoned dock.   
  
"Not one of these. I'll get some practice on the way though." Chris fired again, and as the second Sentinel blew he saw four more accelerating behind it.   
  
"Shit! Why's Salvatore after us?" Chris drew back in, reloading for safety.  
  
"I'll tell you later."  
  
* * *  
  
Chris had already guessed. He withdrew halfway from the car, and fired at the approaching Sentinel. He missed. A man withdrew from the car like Chris, opened fire with an assault rifle. The bullets pierced the car. Maria screamed.  
  
"Take one of these!" She handed Chris a grenade. Chris smiled, and took out the pin. He slowly rose out of the window, and let the grenade go. It skidded along the pavement and blew under the chassis of the forerunning Sentinel. It launched into the air, caught fire, rolled three times until the remaining three slammed into it.   
  
"FUCK YOU GUYS!" Chris screamed and fell back into the seat as they rolled into the dock. Maria stopped the car and sat on the hood. She seemed shaken. Chris stepped out of the car. He walked over to her. She had her hands in her lap. She brought them up to her face. She began to weep. It was something Chris hadn't heard from anyone in a long time.   
  
" Maria, what did you do?" Chris sat down next to her on the hood.  
  
"I.... I......" Maria looked up at Chris, her face red, her eyelashes stained with tears.  
  
"I told Salvatore we were an item..... don't ask me why! I don't know!" Maria finally managed.   
  
" YOU said that? Maria, things were so perfect!" Chris sighed.  
  
"Now you've killed us both. You do know that, don't you?" Chris grew angry.  
  
"No. We aren't dead... yet. I have a friend, should be showing up any minute in her boat. Her name's Asuka. She's to the Yakuza what Salvtore is to the Family. If we take care of Salvatore, she says we'll be okay. It'll cut the legs out from under the Family, for good. She's gotta brother, kinda her capo. Runs the casino downtown." As she finished that sentence, a speedboat rolled slowly into the harbor. A long-haired, Asian-looking businesswoman was it's lone occupant. She walked up to Maria and Chris.  
  
"Hello, Maria." Asuka smiled.  
  
" Chris, this is her. She's someone we can trust."  
  
"We should get out of here before more bloodthirsty Italians swarm the dock. I'll take you over to Staunton to my place. Come on, hop in." Asuka motioned to her boat. Maria stepped into the neon pink speedboat. Chris followed suit. Asuka started up the boat and accelerated out of the harbor.   
  
"Chris, Asuka found us a nice place with a view. It's her guesthouse but it's not on her property. Chris, would you mind if I stayed with you tonight?" Maria leaned closer to him. Chris looked at her, relaxing while he could She was beautiful, her hair let down, pretty even in an impromptu tanktop and jeans.   
  
"Sure." Chris tried to keep his cool, looking out on the ocean's glassy blue as it rolled by.  
  
"Chris, I think you'll like the way I have equipped you place. Flat-screen T.V. surround sound, latest game systems, PC and a huge stereo. All the stuff you'll need to enjoy your time. However, you'll have you're room in my place until your ties with the Mafia are severed." Asuka pulled into a luxurious dock outside her penthouse.   
  
"And how am I gonna go about that?" Chris asked, stepping out of the boat.  
  
"There is only one way." Asuka smiled at Chris. "You must kill Salvatore Leone." 


	11. The Streets Run Red With Blood

Chapter 11  
  
The Streets Run Red With Blood  
  
Chris and Maria spent the night together. Nothing happened, and Chris was a little afraid of something happening. Well, not afraid, more nervous. In the morning he met Asuka outside on a veranda overlooking the ocean.  
  
"Chris, today is the day you front an assassination of every major Mafia player in Liberty. The men you are assigned to kill are Tony Cipriani, Luigi Guterelli, Joey and Salvatore Leone in that order. Our surveillance will keep an eye on every one of them. Here's a cell phone. Call 555-3323 to reach the surveillance. They'll inform you of your next hits whereabouts. If you need help, call them. I have a vehicle I need to show you now."  
  
"Hey, wait a minute! I was told I just needed to kill Salvatore!" Chris wasn't panicking, just intimidated.  
  
"We are going to wipe the Leone Family from the streets, make sure the Mafia never regains control again."  
  
"Well, let's get started huh?" Chris sighed.  
  
" Very well. Follow me." Asuka walked to the back of her luxurious house, and proceeded outside. Chris followed her into a dark garage. She flipped a light switch. Bright light flooded the room and Chris saw a jet black Patriot.  
  
"Am I gonna use this hunk of junk to kill 'em all? Why?" Chris asked.  
  
Asuka never replied she walked to the bed of the Patriot. She slowly unveiled a massive 50 caliber chaingun on the bed.  
  
"Holy shit. Who's driving?" Chris smiled.  
  
"One of the Yakuza's best drivers. Keep this covered till you reach the first target. You'll be riding shotgun till you are in close proximity of the target. It's not legal, but the cops won't care. They've already been informed of it, and we've paid them off. You have a two hour window to kill them all." As Asuka finished a young Asian man walked into the room.  
  
"Chris, this is Hirushi. He'll be driving you. He doesn't speak much English. He'll stop about 200 meters from the first target, allowing you to get in back and man the gun. When your target is dead, remain in the gunner seat and proceed to the next location which you have learned via your cell phone." Asuka wished them luck, then headed back into her estate.  
  
"Alright then." Chris opened the cell phone dialed the number and waited for a ring. One ring and it was answered.  
  
" First Target : Tony Cipriani. At Mama's Italian food in St. Marks. Get rid of him. Should the vehicle be disabled there is a collection of arms in the back seat."  
  
Chris hopped in the passenger side, and Hirushi turned the car on. He slowly rolled out. The Patriot was surprisingly fast, and St. Marks was reached in fifteen minutes. Without saying a word, Chris got out.  
  
" Gaijin. Target will ride in that limo. Fire when he get in." The Asian said in choppy English.  
  
The pudgy man Chris saw at the club walked out. He stepped into the limo.  
  
"Let's roll." Chris said.  
  
* * *  
  
The Patriot advanced like a bat out of hell. Chris opened fire in the gun, each bullet rocking the seat he was in, and each bullet went on to pierce the limo. The limo exploded, flying high over the Patriot's head.   
  
"Damn!" Chris got a major adrenaline rush out of it. He dialed up the number on the cell phone again.  
  
"Luigi Gutterelli. In his Limo on 5th and Main. Guarded. Watch out." The surveillance hung up.  
  
"Yo, Chinaman! 5th and Main! Now!" Chris slid the cell phone into his pocket. The Patriot's engine roared as it accelerated. It fishtailed perfectly on to 5th and Main. The sound of gunfire pierced the calm air. Chris realized he was being fired at. He fired the gun, and it screamed into the surrounding air, each bullet piercing an assailant. Chris sighed, and saw the limo approaching, and from behind the limo... came dashing two Mafia Sentinels. They were copying Chris style by hanging half in, half out. They opened fire on the Patriot, and bullets riddled the hood, but they simply bounced. Chris smiled, a lit the foremost sentinel up in gunfire. The sentinel flew through the air in flames, rolling twice before coming to a stop in front of the limo. The second Sentinel tried to ram the Patriot, but it's whole front half fell off under the might of it's crushing. Chris saw blood spurt under the tires on the second half as the Patriot bucked over the Sentinel. Nothing between him and Luigi now. Except the burned carcass of the first sentinel. The Patriot easily made the Sentinel it's bitch however, slamming it to the side in one swift smash. The Limo swerved to the side and tried to get away, but the Patriot was faster and a lot more limber. It slammed into the Limo's back side as it sped past. The limo was smashed into a u- turn, but accelerated anyway. Chris smiled at it's feeble attempts to get away. He fired at limo, each bullet rippling it's sides. It exploded, and Chris heard the scream inside right before it did. He nonchalantly drew the cell out again.  
  
* * *  
  
"Joey and Salvatore are in the same convoy escorting them to the club. Bonus. Kill them both. They are in Sentinels, so be careful about it and don't let them get away."  
  
"Get to Luigi's club!" Chris yelled at Hirushi. The Patriot rolled slowly to the red light district.  
  
"We'll wait here till they arrive." Chris rested finally. No one noticed the hulking gun in the back of the Patriot. No one was there to notice; the streets had been vacated as people ran from the gunfire. The convoy rolled by. The Patriot's engine came to life, and peeled out of it's hiding place. Chris slammed down the fire button, and two Sentinels out of five in the convoy exploded. The explosions were too near; the Patriot launched into the air, and Chris was thrown from his seat. He watched as the Patriot whirled through the air, and upon landing, the ammunition caused the whole thing to go up. Chris thought only for a moment that this was the hour of his doom. He mustered up the courage to face the advancing Sentinel threat. Taking his trusty shotgun from his jacket, he faced the Sentinels. Three of 'em left. I gotta kill 'em now, even if Joey and Salvatore are dead already, he told himself. The first car accelerated as the other two bided their time. He jumped to the side, and fired once into the passenger side. The car spun out of control, and Chris could only guess the driver was dead. The other two advanced at once, and Chris dived aside. He unloaded into one's tire. It spun for a moment, regained control, and advanced again. Chris pushed himself off of the hard pavement. He waited, standing like a stone wall against the car's onslaught. He saw the lights blind his vision as the early morning sun couldn't pierce the clouds. He saw the bumped disappear under his vision and then, he jumped. He landed on the hood, and stared into Joey Leone's face. He had seen him once at the mansion. He fired once, and blood sprayed on the windshield. Smiling, he jumped off the hood as the car slammed into the side of the building. He saw the look of horror on Salvatore's face in the next Sentinel. Salvatore advanced and Chris fired, taking out the engine of the car, but sure not to kill Salvatore. The car rolled to a stop mere inches before Chris. Salvatore slumped out of the driver side. Chris approached. It seemed some stray bullets had hit Salvatore anyway.   
  
"Chris........ you let me live. I'll give you everything, my mansion, the Family. Everything." Salvatore raised up his hand, smiling as well as he could.  
  
"Salvatore, bud. It's over. The Family's done for, I've got your wife, and a beautiful place on Staunton. Why would I want a dismantled organization and a cheap piece of shit place on a high rise above the ghetto. You're done Salvatore."  
  
"Oh god, don't kill me!" Salvatore wept. Chris smiled as he shot Salvatore. Every bullet pierced his face, lined and wrinkled from years of stress.  
  
"You fuck with me," Chris mounted the shotgun on his shoulder, "you fuckin' with the best." He ran into the Red Light District, jacked a vacant Sentinel and rode to Asuka's place. 


	12. Keep your enemies closer

A/N: Changing the format a little here so the story allows me more creativity now. This chapter is a mission not in the game, but important to the story.   
  
Chapter 12  
  
Keep your enemies closer......  
  
  
  
Asuka's guesthouse hardly dimmed in luxury from her own house. Before Chris entered, he was confronted by two Asian men in Armani suits who bade him to stop. The Japanese men laid down two briefcases silently, then bowed. They headed to their custom stingers. Chris watched the two men drive off, and looked at the suitcases. He knew it was the fortune of the Mafia, Maria's first payment of her inherited wealth. All of the Don's heirs were dead, so all the money went to her. Chris took them both, and swiftly entered the guesthouse. Chris was in awe. After proceeding down a short hallway he stopped. His mouth dropped. The briefcases fell to the floor.   
  
The room was adorned with every electronic luxury he could think of. Big screen T.V., DVD player, surround sound. Even a playstation 2, well kept and a sleek black, laying near the T.V. The walls and floors were white, with the wall opposite the big-screen only broken by a black plasma T.V.  
  
There was no doubt in his mine that he deserved the luxuries. But moments after evaluating the room, Chris picked up the cases and set them on the roundtable between the couch and in front of the big screen. They both opened with a click and there was the money. Chris sat down. Ten Benjamins to a bundle in rows two by three by five, and more was coming tomorrow. That's thirty thousand in each case, and more of the Leone crime family's worth pouring into his pockets every day.   
  
Whoever said 'crime doesn't pay' or 'money isn't everything' is next on my hit list, he laughed to himself.   
  
At that precise moment, Chris's door flung open. Chris looked up. He saw a man, balding with dark sunglasses, his cuban cigar smoke mixing in with that from his twin assault rifles. His suit was bloody  
  
"Took care of your friends." the man opened fire. Chris threw the money to the side of the sofa, kicked the table over and hid behind the sofa. He regrouped himself as the man made Swiss cheese out of the table, and turned his attention to the couch.  
  
Chris knew any false movement would mean paralyzation, death or simply immense pain. He drew two pistols from his pockets. He leapt into the air, twisting around and emptied both barrels at the man. He saw the man's body convulse, and his door was redecorated in blood scarlet and brain matter gray. The man slumped. Chris dropped the clips to the floor. He reloaded and placed the guns in his pockets again. He stuck out his bottom lip, blowing his long hair out of his eyes. He grabbed both assault rifles. He kicked open the bloody front door. He sneaked outside to see that four door cars full of men had pulled up. He ran inside, and in the white room there were two staircases, both curving up to the same door. He ran up, and entered, figuring this was his bedroom. He surveyed the room. Beautiful silk curtains and bed sheets. And speaking of beautiful.... a curvaceous lump appeared on the right of the bed. He advanced, and saw that it was in fact Maria.   
  
"Maria! Get the fuck out 'a bed! We have company!" Chris yelled, and Maria jumped out of bed, awake and only in a nightgown. Chris ignored the fact. Chris saw a steel black locker in the corner of the room. He ran over, and saw out the window that the hitmen were just entering the guesthouse. He flung the locker open. Inside, an RPG hung, as well as four grenades, two uzis, two sawed-offs and a sniper rifle. Chris tossed Maria the Uzis.   
  
" Honey, all you gotta do is shoot anything coming through those windows, okay?" Chris opened the door to the white room.  
  
"Okay."  
  
* * *  
  
Chris headed to the top of the staircase and looked down on his assailants. They were pouring in sixteen at a time. Without a word, he rained hell on the hitmen. The bullets ripped through half of them, killing them, or mortally wounding them. The remaining half returned fire, but Chris simply hid behind the walls of his room. They were not penetrated by any bullets.  
  
"Baby, use one of these!" Maria tossed Chris a grenade.   
  
"Great minds think alike!" Chris stepped out, pulled the pin, and let it roll down the staircase. The grenade detonated, sending body parts and entire bodies flying, and Chris let out a gleeful laugh of enthusiasm. He saw that only the hall carpet had been burned. The walls must have been made of Iron, or something inflammable! Yet, more were coming. He saw even more hitmen run in. More cars must have pulled up! Chris ran back into the room, running past Maria and flinging open the locker. Chris saw silhouettes against the windows right before two men came crashing in. Maria gritted her teeth as her bullets cut through the both of them. She blew the smoke from the guns as Chris watched, and more or less posed seductively for Chris with them. Chris smiled at her, then turned to the other love of his life. His guns. He grabbed the Sniper Rifle .   
  
"Honey, I'm off to work." he said, brushing past her with a smile. He hoisted it over his shoulder. The white room was going to be crawling soon with hit squad members.  
  
"You think you mess with me? Huh? I got something for you! Say 'ello to m' leetle fren'!" Chris did his best impersonation of his one true Idol. He shot three of the men that were entering in the face in less than three seconds each. He dropped the sniper, then opened fire with the Assault Rifle. Each man that came dropped from the gunfire.  
  
"Yeah! Fuck you! You need an army to take us on!" Chris threw his arms in the air, as if signaling his victory. One hitman crawled, nearly lifeless. Chris fired at him again, laughing maniacally. The body then went limp.   
  
He then realized what had happened. Maria came to his side a minute later. He looked around the room.   
  
"Maria.... how the hell are we gonna pay for this? We ruined it, and I haven't even been here five minutes!" Chris looked at Maria, his face unchanged even through his worry.  
  
"It won't come out of our pockets. The Yakuza will fix it, I'm sure. But we can't sleep here tonight. Let's go back to Asuka." Maria said. Chris nodded, and made his way down the stairs to the front. He stepped on any carcass in his way, and Maria tiptoed around each one, still frightened by the thought of death even though she had taken two men's lives just earlier. 


	13. Love and War

Chapter 13  
  
Love and War  
  
Before Chris and Maria left, Chris grabbed a loose, burned chunk of wall. As he left, they saw that they had six jet black Sentinels waiting outside for him. They took the only one that had an unobstructed path. They sped off, fishtailing and weaving around town as they screamed down the streets to Asuka's estate. Chris and Maria, before stepping out, surveyed the area heavily to make sure no one had followed. They proceeded into Asuka's estate, not bothering to knock (or close the door, for that matter). Asuka was in her dining room, eating and carrying on with a group of Japanese businessmen. Chris felt slightly awkward, but walked up to Asuka. He bent over, and whispered in her ear.  
  
"We have major problems."   
  
Asuka regarded the businessmen, set her silverware down and excused herself in Japanese. Chris and Maria strolled out of the room, and waited for Asuka.  
  
* * *  
  
Asuka sat down on a white leather couch. Asuka set her purse down on the glass table in front of her. Maria sat next to her, exhausted and scared. Chris walked to the wall opposite Asuka. He folded his arms across his broad chest. He blew the hair out of his eyes, and sighed.  
  
"Asuka, the house is done for." He tossed a chunk of the burned wall onto the table. "Somebody got a hit squad after us. And it ain't no Mafia."  
  
"How do you know this? What did these assailants look like?" No emotion breaking her stern face, even though she had acknowledged the cost of repairing the guesthouse.  
  
"Uh, Asian, Whites, Blacks, Hispanics. Everybody, I think." Chris said with a smile.  
  
"Then it may or may not be the work of the Cartel."  
  
"The Cartel?" Chris knew this must have been it.  
  
"We should not wave accusations at the Cartel just yet. I have connections. I'll have you meet a family friend. It is Donald Love. You've heard of him before, I'm sure."  
  
"The Love Media guy? What can he do?" Chris unfolded his arms, walked over to the recliner next to the couch, and sat.  
  
"Donald Love is an affiliate of one the top investigators in the world. He's got many connections. I suggest you meet him. I'll phone ahead." Asuka picked up a portable. Chris looked at Maria, and tilted his head to the door. She nodded, calming down but still edgy.  
  
They left as Asuka began to talk. Chris hung around long enough to make sure the meeting was even on. When it was confirmed, they entered the Sentinel again. The drive was short, since Chris knew where the Love Media Corporation Headquarters was.   
  
They headed inside, and were first confronted by a secretary.   
  
"Mr. Love is currently in a meeting. His room is on the top floor. We need confirmation of an appointment, however." The secretary was an elderly brunette.  
  
"Uh, yeah..... Let me find that." Chris turned to Maria, smirking. Maria rolled her eyes and gave him her cell phone.   
  
"Press two, then send." Maria said. Chris pressed the two button, and then the send button. The phone rung once, then Asuka answered.  
  
"Asuka, yeah.... tell this nice lady we need to see Mr. Love NOW." Chris handed the cell to the secretary.  
  
"Hello, Mrs. Kasen. How has your day been? I see. Well, your friends here..... ah, okay. I will send them to the top floor immediately," She set the phone down. "Mr. Graves, Mrs. Leone... Mr. Love will see you immediately. I will notify him of your coming, so his doors should be unlocked. "  
  
* * *  
  
Chris entered the room with a certain confidence, of which he was unsure where it came from. He walked inside, and saw a tall, dark-haired man looking out the large windows. The man looked over his shoulder, and turned completely around with a smile when he saw Chris and Maria enter.  
  
"Mr. Graves. I am glad to meet you, even if you come on short notice. Asuka phoned ahead, and said where you had had difficulties earlier. My top investigators from the Liberty City Police Department are on the case, and I'm expecting a call any minute. Anyway, it is a pleasure to meet you." He stuck out his hand proudly.  
  
" Yeah." Chris walked up and shook his hand with a tight grip.  
  
"My lady." Donald took Maria's hand and kissed it. Chris's hand made a slight motion for his gun, but he stopped himself. The high tech phone on Love's desk rung.  
  
"If you'll excuse me, that should be our investigator friends." Donald smiled and walked over to the phone. He picked it up. "Hello? Yes.... I understand.... The Casino? Are you sure of this? What's the proof?" There was a long pause. "Alright then, thank your for your time. Yes. Good bye."  
  
"What's going on?" Chris sat down on some neo-art chair.  
  
" The assailants have been identified through an ID check." Donald sighed. "Every one of them works at the Kasen Casino down the street."  
  
"Wait, Kasen?" Chris interrupted.  
  
"Yes, Kasen. It's run by Asuka's older brother Kenji Kasen. Apparently he hasn't taken too kindly to you moving in. He mustn't trust you. He may think you have Mafia ties still."  
  
"What a dickhead! I killed the fuckin' Don, and took his wife. What the hell is he thinking?" Chris threw his hands up in the air. Maria leered at him, as if thinking his words were slightly inappropriate.   
  
"My intuition tells me he thinks it has to do with your new love life. He may think she's trying to do something." Donald said this, and Maria opened her mouth to talk, but was stopped by Chris.  
  
"Bullshit. The Mafia's done." Chris stood up.  
  
"Well, he's heard something that he thought necessitated an act of war. I believe a pre-emptive strike, under the right circumstances would be vital for your cause."  
  
"My cause?" Chris paused.  
  
" Yes. Chris, I've done my share of research on you and your business. Very promising, I must say. Chris, I'll have you know that in my mind it would be best that you pose as a member of the Cartel to kill Kenji Kasen. That is how I propose you exact your revenge, Mr. Graves. You would not be blamed for the death of Mr. Kasen, and you will start a war which will only hurt the Cartel. The Yakuza have much more influence, if you have not noticed."  
  
" How can I pose as a member?" Chris sat back down, listening intently.  
  
"Oh, it's quite simple. Catalina Rodriguez, the Cartel's connection in Liberty, has a right hand man, named Miguel. Your and his resemblance astounds me, only he has about an inch on you. They know of him, and will immediately jump to that conclusion. Take a Cartel drug-running truck, and head to the multi-story car park. Kenji is having a meeting with me there in 15 minutes. Dispose of him how you wish, and make sure it is done within the next half-hour. Yakuza Policy is to leave a meeting a half-hour after it is scheduled if the other party does not show."  
  
"Okay. Maria, let's go." Chris walked out of the room, fearful, yet confident.  
  
* * *  
  
Fifteen minutes later, they were outside Asuka's place.   
  
"Maria, stay here for now. I'll be back when it's over." Maria stepped silently out of the car. Something was wrong with her, Chris knew. It had to be the guesthouse ordeal.  
  
After another fifteen minutes, Chris saw a truck identical to the ones outside the boat just outside the car park. He meandered, more or less over to it. He stepped inside. Some idiot had left the keys in. Easy pickin's, Chris thought. He revved the engine, and drove silently up every story up the car park till the one just under the roof. He parked the truck, got out and... ever so silently... crept up to look on the roof. Three limousines, fifteen or so Yakuza men. He recognized Kenji. He was short, and, to Chris's muffled chuckle, bore a strong resemblance to his sister. Chris ran to the truck, and turned it on. The adrenaline began flowing. He gunned it onto the roof and turned left on a dime. Gunfire rang out into the noon air, but not even a rocket could stop Chris. The gunshots ripped through the hood, and Chris shut his eyes. But Chris was happy when he heard the a loud bump on his hood. He saw Kenji, broken and twisted sprawled across his hood. Kenji's dying image was of the man he expected would be bad news for the Yakuza, smirking at his death. But that was not as the Yakuza thought.  
  
"Miguel! Get Him!" They screamed, but Chris had hit a ramp, and landed noisily on the ground level below, and Kenji's crumpled body was dragged under the car and crushed. Chris sped away, and the Yakuza continued firing.   
  
* * *  
  
The Yakuza and the Cartel were now at war. Chris told Maria time and time again not to tell Asuka what he had done. Chris saw the streets stained with the blood of both sides, but he knew the Yakuza were winning this war. This was good. This was very good. Chris and Maria's house was repaired in the next week, and Chris had a week off. He heard that he Donald Love wanted him back, and the Yakuza were hoping to deal a paralyzing blow to the Cartel. He knew that he would be integral to this. He just didn't know when or how. 


End file.
